


Hot Dogs and 🍆 🍆 🍆

by jeeno2



Series: Reylo One-Shots [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Inspired by Fanfiction, Light Angst, Oral Sex, Soft Ben Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 05:52:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18204389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeno2/pseuds/jeeno2
Summary: "I got hot dogs. U didn’t get them at the picnic so I got you some."(In which Kylo Ren, President of First Order Enterprises, drunkenly invites Rey Kenobi, IT employee at First Order Enterprises, to his house late at night for some hot dogs--and she says yes.)An outtake inspired by the brilliant “Burner Phone”





	Hot Dogs and 🍆 🍆 🍆

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Violetwilson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Violetwilson/gifts).



> This is an outtake inspired by VioletWilson’s INCREDIBLE twitter fanfic, [”Burner Phone](https://twitter.com/ViWiWrites/status/1108028828356657155).” This frankly mind blowing epistolary AU is all I’ve been able to think about the past three days and-- really, if you haven’t read it yet, you need to stop reading this author note right fucking now and go read it immediately.
> 
> I asked her if she’d be okay with my writing an outtake inspired by her story. I died on the spot when she said I could. Then after freaking out for like an hour, I came back to life, realized what scene I had to write, and wrote this one-shot which is hardly even worth being in the same universe as her brilliant fic.
> 
> It’s been a hell of a ride, Vi. Thank you so much for sharing your talent with us!

Kylo Ren has done a lot of things over the course of his miserable life that he is not proud of.

The way he used to make his mother cry when he was a teenager, for example. Their stupid arguments seemed _very_ important at the time (for example: dressing like a goth had been a central part of his identity back then, and he _liked_ how he looked in black; why couldn’t his parents fucking understand that?). But now that he’s an adult, whenever he thinks back to how he’d been back in high school…

It makes him cringe.

And then some of the things he’s done as he’s climbed the corporate ladder… the way he used to use people, the callous way he’d throw colleagues under the bus if they stood between him and the career advancement he’d sought...

Well. He’s not terribly proud of any of _that_ , either.

But none of the shameful things he’s done over the past thirty-four years can even hold a candle to the absolutely _reprehensible_ thing he is doing right now.

**hey remember when you drunk texted me well guess what**

There’s a brief moment of lucidity after he sends the text where Kylo still has the good sense to hope maybe Rey won’t reply. If she’s smart--and she is smart; _god,_ she’s probably the smartest person he has ever known--Rey not only _won’t_ reply to him, she’ll block his number immediately and report his ass to Phasma first thing in the morning.  

But then, ten minutes later, his phone buzzes with a new text.

He jumps to his feet, his stupid heart in his fucking throat.

It’s Rey.

_“Oh boy. I guess this was fairly inevitable wasn’t it.”_

… and any shame Kylo might have felt about what he’s doing right now evaporates.

He’s drunk. A _little_ drunk, anyway. He had a few wine coolers at dinner and then a couple of pity beers once he got back home, and while he doesn’t drink often, he’s kind of a massive human being. So it really does take a lot of alcohol to _really_ knock him on his ass.

But he’s definitely at least a _little_ drunk right now, and Rey is the most beautiful person he has ever seen in his life, and…

... _and,_ everything about her makes him want to take the caution he’s been clinging to all his life like a fucking lifeline and throw it out the proverbial window.

**Let me hold you.**

**I got hot dogs. U didn’t get them at the picnic so I got you some.**

It's a terrible line and he knows it, despite the fact that he's not really in his right mind right now. To say nothing of the fact that, really, it's _his_ fault she missed out on getting hot dogs at that picnic in the first place.

But to his great surprise, she texts him back in less than thirty seconds.

She agrees to come over.

And he’s done for.

 

* * *

 

 

The way Kylo sees it, he now has at least two pretty serious problems on his hands.

The _biggest_ problem, of course--the elephant in the fucking living room, if you will--is that, despite his better judgment, he just kind of drunk-invited a girl who is probably ten years his junior and who is _definitely_ a subordinate over to his house at 10pm on a work night to... eat hot dogs.

But the more immediately pressing concern is the fact that there aren’t actually any hot dogs here. Kylo has not even been in the vicinity of a hot dog outside of the context of the annual FOE picnic in nearly twenty years.

And if Google Maps is correct, Rey will be at his house, expecting him to deliver on his promise of hot dogs, in... less than thirty minutes.  

“Fuck,” he mutters, staring glumly into his empty freezer. As a general rule, Kylo eats only when absolutely necessary. Even then there are times he simply gets too busy to find eating worth his time. The only food currently available in his immaculate, professional-grade kitchen is either leafy and green, and therefore slated to be part of tomorrow’s breakfast smoothie, or the greek yogurt he’s scheduled to mix said greens into.

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

He could berate himself for this oversight, of course. God knows he’s been berating himself for just about everything else the past few days. But then again, he didn’t actually think Rey would _take him up_ on his ridiculous invitation. Why would he? Yes, the signals she sent in his office earlier today were decidedly mixed. The whole turning-him-down thing, followed immediately by the whole grabbing-him-by-his-lapels-and-kissing-him-senseless thing. But literally nothing she did today pointed to _yes, Kylo Ren, I would_ love _to come to your house at a time when most normal people are sleeping so you can watch me eat hot dogs like the goddamn perv you are._

He had no reason to think she would agree to this.

He has been caught completely off guard.

But it doesn’t matter. None of that matters. There is no time for either self-recriminations or panicking. And more to the point: there isn’t enough time for his usual grocery delivery service to get here with the hot dogs he now rather desperately needs.

Swearing under his breath, Kylo pulls on his loafers (no time to locate socks first; this is _urgent_ , time is of the _essence_ ) and googles “Grocery Stores Within Walking Distance.”

 

* * *

 

 

Rey is already pulling into his driveway by the time he returns from the store with five brands of hot dogs (ranging from gourmet to grocery-store brand to all-beef--just in case), three different kinds of hot dog buns (whole wheat, white, and gluten free; he doesn’t know her well enough to know which she’d prefer), and five different versions of mustard (he likes his mustard strong but obviously not everyone does).

Rey drives an older car, some kind of Ford, with so many dents in its back fender it hurts his heart. She has to crank the window up manually when she comes to a stop in front of his garage. When she looks up, and sees him standing there outside her driver’s side door, a giant tree of a man carrying three different shopping bags full of things just for her, she pulls her bottom lip between her teeth and gives him a tentative smile.

“Hey,” she says.

She’s wearing that sundress from the picnic. The floral one, the one he told her he likes, with the little spaghetti straps he has imagined sliding down her arms a thousand times in the twenty-eight hours since he first saw her in it. It’s fitted at the top, this dress, hugging her curves in all the places he longs to touch her.

And it flares out a little at the waist, letting the fabric swish entrancingly around her legs with every step she takes.

What could he have possibly ever done to deserve this… this _vision_ , this brilliant girl, standing here in his driveway? She’s looking up at him like he’s not a monster. Like he’s someone she wants to know. Someone she wants to _get_ to know. He bites the inside of his cheek, hard, just in case, just to be certain this isn’t a part of some elaborate dream.

“Hi,” he says back.

She notices the bags he’s carrying. “Hey, wait a minute. Are those…” Her eyes widen. The right side of her mouth quirks up into a half-smile. Or maybe she’s smirking. He can’t look away from her lips, now that he knows what they feel like, soft and warm and moving against his own. He’ll never get over how she let him kiss her today. Right in the middle of his office. Maybe she’ll even let him do it again. He told her, earlier, that he’d do anything for another chance to touch her. He’d meant it.

“You told me you already had hot dogs,” she adds. Now she’s definitely smirking at him. But there’s nothing accusatory in her tone, even though she clearly just caught him in another lie. On the contrary. She looks, sounds…

Amused.

Her smile grows.

“I didn’t…” Kylo closes his eyes. He can do this. He got himself into this mess; he’s going to see it through. “I didn’t actually think you’d say _yes_. When I invited you over.” Her eyes widen a little more as she considers this. God, this girl. She is utterly guileless. She will be his undoing. “I didn’t dare dream of it, actually.”

She giggles at that, the sound of it light and happy, bubbling up from inside of her.

“Oh,” she says, grinning at him now, the tip of her tongue peeking out at the corner of her mouth and… and, no. He isn’t going to survive this night. “Why didn’t you?”

Before he can think of a good answer to that, she takes his hand and leans into him.

She presses a gentle kiss to his cheek.

“I’m still not mad,” she whispers, so quiet he feels the words as warm puffs of air against his cheek more than hears them. He shudders a little, jaw going rigid, gooseflesh rising on the back of his neck, as he warns himself to keep it together. “Not right now, anyway.”

He nods, letting her know he understands. He doesn’t trust his voice enough right now to speak.

“And... thank you for cooking for me tonight,” she adds.

She moves closer to him, and kisses the corner of his mouth, so soft and feather-light Kylo can feel his soul leave his body at the contact.

“Thank you, Rey,” he murmurs. “For coming here tonight. For…” _For everything,_ he wants to say. _For letting me touch you. For just being the magnificent person you are_.

“For agreeing to talk with me.” he says instead.

She twines their fingers together, and nods.

“Of course,” she says. “I want to talk.”

“Yeah,” Kylo breathes. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

“You sobered up fast.”

Rey’s sitting across from him at his little kitchen table, her plate piled high with five different varieties of hot dogs. She’s eating them without any mustard at all (“I like ketchup,” she’d said, shrugging, sounding almost embarrassed by her preferences, as he cursed himself for not buying every bottle of fucking ketchup in the store when he’d had the chance).

She maintains eye contact with him as she eats, licking her lips meaningfully after every bite. He knows what she’s doing, knows what she’s _telling_ him with her eyes and her lips, even if neither one of them are giving voice to what they’re feeling. What they both want. But he won’t ruin this quiet moment they’re sharing by asking questions. Not just yet.

He clears his throat and surreptitiously adjusts himself inside his slacks. He’s already getting almost unbearably hard, just from watching her eat. Just from this.

“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” He’s trying to focus on her words, on the things she is telling him, because they’d agreed to talk tonight and they _need_ to talk tonight. But just the sight of her, enjoying every bite of food she puts in her mouth, makes his pants too tight and his palms sweat, and god, all he wants to do is--

She sets her half-eaten hot dog back down on her plate and raises one eyebrow.

“I said, you sobered up fast.” She gives him a small smile. “You told me that you were drunk, before.”

“Oh.” He rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. “That. Yeah. I mean… I was kind of drunk. When I texted you. But I... I metabolize alcohol pretty quickly.” He can tell he is blushing, can feel his cheeks growing hot just from this one little admission.

She nods thoughtfully, considering. “But you’re... not drunk anymore.”

It isn’t a question. “No.” He shakes his head emphatically. “I’m not.”

“Good.” She’s still holding his gaze, but her voice breaks a little on the word. He wonders, for the first time, if she’s nervous right now, too. That makes him feel a little better somehow. His shoulders relax. “We should both have a clear head for this.”

“Right.”

She eats the rest of the hot dogs he made her without another word, maintaining eye contact with him the entire time.

 

* * *

 

 

Later, Kylo will try and tell himself that he really didn’t have any expectation of sex when Rey agreed to come over tonight.

And while that may be at least mostly true, their move from the kitchen table to his big, comfortable living room couch is as easy and effortless as water flowing downstream. As necessary as breathing.

He doesn’t try to fight it.

Neither does she.

“I meant what I said,” he tells her, between kisses. She’s astride his lap now, somehow, though he couldn’t explain how she got there if he tried. One minute she was sitting next to him on the couch, confiding in him the horrible situation she’s in with that reprehensible Unkar Plutt, and then they were laughing together over a funny thing her friend Rose said the other day-- and the next thing Kylo knew, Rey was on his lap, kissing him and kissing him and _kissing_ him, pressing his body back against the couch cushions with her gentle touches, her delicate fingers twining needfully in his hair.

“Which part did you mean?” she asks him, a little breathless. Her lips are trailing down his neck now, making it hard for him to focus on anything but the incredible way she is making him feel. His body under hers. Her legs, soft and strong, bracketing his hips. “You’ve said a lot of things tonight.”

He chuckles, low in his throat. “I mean… okay. True.” She grinds against the rapidly hardening bulge in his jeans and he gasps without even meaning to. Shit. _Shit._ He needs to get this next bit out. “The part where I said I don’t give one single fuck about this company. I don’t. I really don’t. If I have to fire everyone at First Order for us to--”

“No,” she tells him, cutting him off.

“But--”

She silences him with another press of her lips to his. It’s hungry, this time, the way she kisses him, the way she takes control of the situation when he opens his mouth for her. He allows it, he’ll let her to do _anything_ to him, if only she stays with him, keeps touching him, exactly like this.

“We’ll find another way,” she says. She’s breathing hard now, at least as hard as he is, and she’s sliding off his lap and onto the floor. Her hands trail meaningfully down his thighs. He shivers. “No one should lose their jobs over this. So. No reorganization. I won’t let you do that.”

She gently pries his legs apart with her hands, moves between them, and--

Her pretty little hands go to his belt buckle.

Kylo Ren nearly chokes on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck. Rey. You--you don’t have to--”

She ignores his babbling, undoes the button of his jeans, and eases the zipper down.

She looks up at him from the floor, eyes half-lidded and intense. She will end him, tonight. This will be the end of everything.

“I want to,” she says defiantly. “I want to _see_ what you had pressed up against me earlier today in your office.”

Kylo groans. “ _Rey_.”

She reaches inside his boxers and pulls him free. Her eyes widen as she takes in his length, his girth, and some small, primal part of his hindbrain growls with pleasure at her reaction to him.

She licks her lips, then turns her eyes back to him.

“I want to,” she says again, before her mouth descends and all talking ends.

Kylo has done this before, of course. A few times. Back in college, when he was trying to experience as much as he could as fast as he could because he was _finally_ out of his parents’ fucking house. He has vague memories of some girl whose name he has long since forgotten, with long hair and a nervous smile, and the way she once brought him off with her lips and her tongue. How awkward it had been for both of them when he’d come in her mouth..

But nothing in any of Kylo’s limited prior experience compares to this. Rey is _merciless_ with him, her tongue slowly, deliberately circling his head as her hand works his base, her pretty pink lips forming a perfect _O_ shape before taking him deep inside. Kylo groans like a wounded animal, and he writhes on his sofa as she fucks him relentlessly with her mouth, bobbing far too slowly over him as he fights against instinct to keep from thrusting up into her, his hands gripping the sofa cushions so tightly his knuckles go white.

She slides the straps of her sundress down so that her breasts are exposed, and _oh, fuck_ \--she isn’t wearing a bra, her fucking tits have been bare underneath that incredible dress of hers this entire time. Her breasts bounce a little as she moves over him and he groans again, swelling impossibly harder in her hand.

She keeps her eyes open while she slowly drives him mad, watching him curiously as he unravels. He tries to keep his eyes open too, wants the image of a half-dressed Rey Kenobi sucking him off seared into his mind’s eye for the rest of his life. But then she sucks on him, _hard,_ hollowing out her cheeks around him as she gives his base another rough twist, and his eyes slam shut of their own accord.

“ _Rey_ ,” he begs. His balls are starting to tighten up, his orgasm is already beginning to build at the base of his spine. He’s going to come, he _has_ to come, he is going to _die_ if he doesn’t come, but fuck, he doesn’t want this to end, this _can’t_ end, because what will happen if this is all they will ever have? “ _Please.”_

She moans around him then by way of wordless response. The sound she makes is long, and loud, and he can _feel_ it, reverberating on his cock and all the way to his toes, and--

He flies apart, eyes wide and unseeing, as his cock jerks, spasms, inside her.

 

* * *

 

“We’ll figure it out,” she tells him, after, when his breathing has returned to normal.

She must have taken off her dress at some point, because she’s naked now, her beautiful ass in the air as she bends over to help him out of his own clothes.

Soon, he should probably suggest they move this to his bedroom. He has a big, soft king-sized bed. They’ll be much more comfortable there.

But for right now, he just watches her. Watches her move. When she’s finished undressing him, she crawls back up on the couch and rests her head on his chest. She lifts her chin and presses a gentle kiss to one of his collarbones. “We’ll find a way. Okay?”

He sighs, and pulls her closer.

“Yeah,” he says, with as much conviction as he can muster.

Because…

Well. _Because_ , he really hopes she’s right.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on twitter at [jeenonamit](https://twitter.com/jeenonamit/)!  
> Or on tumblr, also at [jeenonamit](https://jeenonamit.tumblr.com/).


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